One Way Or Another
by IcedOverFire
Summary: Divination extra credit assignment. Ten things you like in a person. Should be easy, right? Well, not if you have to write the blasted list on an arrogant git. GinnyxDraco.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Never have I thought the gods would give me the chance to own something as great as the Harry Potter series. Ever.

**ONE WAY OR ANOTHER**

I hate Divination!

Who the bloody hell doesn't nowadays? _Professor_ Trelawney doesn't do anything to make the class enjoyable either, figures. I'm a seer, she says with that faraway look she always has. She claims it's because she's continually living in and out of her trances. Pfft, yeah right, trances my ass. If anything the only place she lives in and out of is reality. I have no idea what Headmaster Dumbledore saw in her! She _does_ look like a weird, freaky gypsy but that's where her association with others seers and psychics end. She _looks_ the part but she definitely doesn't have any right to be a professor in Hogwarts.

And now she shoves _this_ in our faces! I can't even think of an appropriate word for this assignment of hers.

_Crap_.

Yeah, that practically covers it all—the project itself, the way we look at Trelawney and how all of us upperclassmen feel because the only weekend we could have gone to Hogsmeade until two months from now was pulled away from us.

**Flashback**

"_All of you are bordering on failing this subject, class. Not one of the sixth or seventh years is showing any potential in Divination. It is quite disappointing being your professor. But I shall give all of you extra credit to pull up your grades," she had declared before dismissing my class. I inwardly groaned, just imagining what weird star she'd want a report on. _

"_For this assignment, all sixth and seventh year students, no exceptions, are to write a list." She looked smug at our obviously suspicious looks. A list, what kind of list? And all of the sixth and seventh years? What was she getting at?_

"_A simple list of what you like in a person, very easy. But, of course, that is not where the work ends. You cannot make a list of just anyone; you must first recite a spell that differs from each and every one of you." By now all of the people in my year are getting agitated, it was a Friday and we didn't have time to listen to all Professor Trelawney's cracked lectures._

"_You see, class, there is one unique spell whose words can be changed based on the date of your birth and your name. You _must_ make sure you have a piece of parchment beforehand then all you have to do is to say the permanent wordings of the incantation followed by your names and birthdays. Whatever is written on the parchment you are required to perform as well. After a few seconds, a name should be on the parchment under the personalized part of the incantation." It doesn't seem so hard, I thought to myself. _

"_The person's name that will appear will be the one you are to write what you like in him or her. I believe that this is where you shall have a harder time with this assignment. Only those in the sixth and seventh years are entered in this project so you will not have to find out about strangers in the lower years." She was supposed to say something else when Parvati Patil raised a hand haughtily. Yes, you could see that it was done as if she were the queen of Europe._

"_Professor, why would we have a hard time writing what we like about someone if we know them? I don't get what's so difficult about writing up some stuff about another person," she asked in that irritatingly high-pitched voice of hers that guys, and her friends, actually find pleasing. _

"_It is hard because you cannot lie on this list. I especially like this spell because it gives you a name that you would never have expected and you are sure to have a hard time thinking of compliments for. To not fail this class, you are to write at least ten things and on the same parchment where the name should be. I will find out if you do not do as I say, mind you."_

"_Your list must have reasons as to why you wrote down that feature or characteristic of the person and you will hand your list to the one you made your list on next week Monday, understood? You will give it to him or her during our class so you must do it or you are to take this class again next year."_

"_Why are we doing this kind of spell for special credit?" Some random person quipped from behind me._

"_You all need to understand that this class can be useful in practical, daily matters. More often that not, this spell will give you someone you don't especially like or someone you haven't thought about in years and it will help you express your innermost feelings. Divination is not only about predictions and all the things I teach you in this classroom, it is also about passion and emotion just as all the other subjects. I am hoping that all of you will find some interest in this branch of magic and be proper role models to the younger students of Hogwarts." _

_Oh, so that was it, she just wanted to prove that her class wasn't all bull and that it could actually teach us something other than how to sleep with our eyes open._

**End Flashback**

Now I'm walking towards the Great Hall alone. My friends are still in their classes and Merlin knows our professors have a habit of changing moods and bringing it out on their classes, especially when it's the final one for the week.

"Ginny!" someone called out from behind me. I turn around and I see Hermione, Ron and Harry walking towards me from the Potions dungeons of Professor Snape. I grin at them and wait patiently as they make their way around the students who suddenly emerged from all directions and forming a stampede towards dinner.

"Hey, you guys!" I hug my brother, 'Mione and Harry then follow the other students towards the Great Hall.

"Do you have that crazy extra credit assignment of Trelawney's?" Ron asked bluntly before sitting down in the Gryffindor table.

I nod my head at him before glancing at Hermione. If you know her long enough, you'd know never to call a project 'crazy' or 'stupid' or any other discriminating adjective, more so when it's extra credit. She practically thrives on work.

"As long as I don't get Malfoy or any Slytherin, I don't especially mind it," Harry remarked from beside Ron, filling his plate with the food that never ceased to be scrumptiously mouthwatering. I almost forgot that they existed and part of the project! Oh dammit, I would never finish if I got any of them.

"How about you, Hermione, who don't you want to get?" I ask the brunette sitting on my right.

"Anyone from Slytherin, of course. Ginny, I don't think I could ever live with myself if I had to write truthful compliments on one of _them_, I don't think anyone in our house could." She starts eating her dinner when Lavender and Luna suddenly sit themselves in front of me.

"Ginny, have you heard?" Lavender asks breathlessly, looking towards the Slytherin table.

"Hey Lavender, hey Luna, what's up? You two look excited about something," I greet them back, I'm used to being acknowledged by these two as if I was socially handicapped.

"We are! Ginny, you won't believe what we just found out!" Luna exclaims. Her usually soft, dreamy voice and clouded look in her eyes replaced with animation and exhilaration.

"What happened that made you two look so happy?" Hermione asks, smiling at our friends.

"Draco Malfoy got Ginny for the Divination extra credit project!" they both whisper conspiratorially to me and Hermione, making sure my brother and Harry wouldn't overhear them.

I stiffen in my seat then slowly force my eyes to move towards Malfoy's place in his house's table. It looked like Luna and Lavender's statement was true, if his scowl was anything to go by. Oh shit, this can't be some sort of omen, can it? Didn't Trelawney say something about the spell giving enemies' names? Please gods, have mercy on my tormented soul!

-- After Dinner, Ginny's Dorm Room --

I scream so hard that almost immediately all of the girls in my dorm come inside my room. Of course, I only let Hermione, Luna and Lavender stay to hear my dilemma.

"Gin, what's wrong? Why in the world were you screaming so loud?" Hermione questions, taking a seat on my bed with a frown etched on her face.

"Did something fly through your window?" Luna asks, moving quickly to the windows.

"Do you think I can get Harry and Ron to give me some target practice tonight?" I plead desperately. A few months ago, my brother and Harry got bored and convinced me to have a little target practice with my wand to see if I can make distant objects levitate and the like. It was like my punching bag whenever I felt like I was about to explode from stress.

"I'm so sorry, Gin, but they're both in detention for the prank they pulled on Zabini during Transfiguration," Hermione apologizes, standing up to hug me tightly.

"Just tell us what happened, Ginny, we'll try to help you, promise." Lavender smiled worriedly at me, making me feel guilty for possibly disturbing their extra credit assignments.

I sigh in defeat and point towards the fallen parchment on the floor in front of my desk.

Understanding finally dawned on my friends' faces and they all started to smile. It's like they already knew who I was shrieking and cursing my lungs out for.

"You got Malfoy!" Luna exclaims gleefully, jumping up and down then high-fiving with Lavender.

"What is so funny about me having to write nice things about the brat?" I glare at them and they quickly sober up.

"Ginny's right, you two. What would you two have done if you got him?" Hermione adds venomously, I can sense that she wasn't having such a grand time with her own list. But I know that she's enjoying my situation right now just like my two other friends.

"Well, if we put aside Malfoy's being a Slytherin then I would start writing down how drop-dead gorgeous he looks. What? You can't deny that he is _hot_, you three," Lavender defends with her hands on her hips, a look of defiance on her face.

Luna sighs beside me. "It's true, Gin, 'Mione. He did help with those Death Eaters in the Final War so we can't say that he's evil—"

I cut her off before she gives Lavender a chance to talk on and on about Malfoy's "drop-dead gorgeous looks". Okay, so he's hot (if the first time I've seen him would have been today then he's undeniably, it-should-be-illegal-and-he-should-be-in-jail hot but I am _never_ going to admit that) what else is there to him?

"Okay, okay, I get your point. Now all of you, out! I need to think of ten things I don't hate in that git and that will need my utmost concentration." I sigh dejectedly then sit down on my bed, burying my head in my hands.

"If it helps at all, Gin, I got Blaise Zabini," Hermione murmurs almost inaudibly. That makes my head snap up in shock.

"You don't seem so sad, Hermione."

"Hey, hey, come on; let's get out of here before you can help her understand the heart, 'Mione. Gin, we know you hate him but you need to do this." Lavender grinned at me before dragging Hermione out behind her.

"Lavender, I don't even stay in Gryffindor Tower! Where are you taking me?" I hear Hermione's fading voice protest against Lavender's whims.

"You know you don't hate him, Gin," Luna says with a sympathetic smile.

"What do you mean I don't hate him? Of course I hate that sodding bastard!"

Luna just shakes her head at me. "Just think about it, you'll find that you like more than then things in Malfoy, Gin." She leaves my room with my head spinning after slightly comprehending her implication.

Me? _Not_ hate Draco Malfoy? What parallel universe would ever allow that sick and twisted thought?

Now what can _I_ possibly like in _him_?

-- After Dinner, Draco's Heads Room --

I continue scowling as my best mates, Blaise and Parkinson, follow me to my room. My mood doesn't lighten up when I reach it and bring myself to my bed.

"Oh, she isn't such a bad little thing, Drake. If anything, she's the only one of the Weasleys I don't have a problem looking at," Pansy remarks from my table with Blaise closing the door behind him.

"She may be Potter's top worshipper but she isn't as horrid as that brother of hers. When you think about it, you're actually lucky that you got her instead of Scarhead," Blaise adds with a smirk, I have no idea what he's saying. This was a mudblood-loving, orange-haired Weasley. Surely they can't think I should be rejoicing with having to think up of ten, not one or two or even five, honest compliments for the pathetic girl!

"A lot of guys are chasing after her, Drake. Does that help her in your shallow eyes?" Pansy folds her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes at me.

"Since when did you listen to all the crap about those lousy Gryffindors, Pansy?" I counter sarcastically.

"Since I heard that she's the only other girl who's captured Potter's notice since Cho Chang way back then."

"Potter has good taste, Draco. Not as well as ours, obviously, but good enough to make sure that whoever he's chasing isn't an easy catch."

I snort at their attempts to calm me down to an extent where I wouldn't be tempted to lock Trelawney in a dungeon full of snakes. "So what if she's Potter's new play toy?"

"Okay, Draco, don't get mad but are you seriously telling us that you've never seen her and thought to yourself how much she's changed?" Pansy glares at me openly, challenging me to lie. She'd have me in a body bind faster than I could deflect it if I didn't tell the truth.

"Why are you two so hell bent to not let me loathe the youngest Weasley?" I'm curious as to their desperation.

"We're tired of seeing you with girls who aren't worth a look, Draco," Blaise answers me with a sigh.

"You're trying to tell me that you think Ginny Weasley is a girl worthy to look at?" I sit up suddenly in my bed, looking at my two friends in surprise.

"Sort of, Drake. We like her for you; we've been looking at some girls to recommend to you for some while because you don't seem too keen on the idea of having a serious relationship for once in your life. Just ignore the fact that she's a Gryffindor and a Weasley and what do you have if not someone who could constantly keep you on your toes?" Blaise voices out again with a smile, a sincere one that doesn't make me want to hit his face.

I have to admit that she looks…beautiful, I guess. She's changed drastically since I saw her last beside her brother after the war in my fifth year. But just looks won't get me to take someone seriously. I know only a handful about her from Potter and her brother who keep on trying to protect her from the taunts my mates and I occasionally throw at her direction.

"When will you start on that list of yours, Draco? We have to head to Hogsmeade tomorrow because I need new robes," Pansy whines from beside Blaise.

"Soon, when you two leave me alone. Don't you have lists to make?"

They both shrug at me non-comitally. "Done."

"I got that Lovegood chick, it wasn't that hard. All I had to write about was how she had to imaginative, ranting on and on about those imaginary creatures she claims lives everywhere." Blaise shakes his head in disbelief of what he just said.

"I had the unfortunate honor to write my list on some lowly Slytherin I only know plays Quidditch." Pansy stands up and pulls Blaise towards my door.

"Now we're leaving, okay, Draco? Get on with that list of yours, will you?" Pansy scowls at me from the door.

Blaise smirks before following Parkinson out of my room. "You'll find something, Drake, I know you will." He closes the door and I lie down again on my bed.

What the bloody hell will I write about Ginevra Weasley?

--

A/N: Did you like it? I'd love to receive reviews, seriously. This is only my third HP story and I don't know if it's any good. Tell me if you think I should continue this. Please and thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you everyone who reviewed! You have no idea how...inspiring (I'll think of a better adjective in the later chapters of the story) your comments and suggestions are. Especially to **miss devil's kiss**, you're one of the few who really suggested I do something with my story and it's one of the most humbling and gratifying things I have ever received. _

_For that I dedicate this chapter to you, hoping that you'll continue giving me some advice for my story's improvement. I really tried to make this chapter better and I pray it's somewhat noticeable. _

_With that all done, I present to all of you the second chapter of **One Way Or Another** (title has been changed for security purposes). (Laughs)_

**_Draco Malfoy_**

I stare at the three quarters blank parchment in front of me. I frown as I realize I haven't even _started_ on the blasted list. Damn Trelawney and all her seer crap. What kind of teacher does this to her students? Hogwarts or no Hogwarts it's an injustice! The sun is going to rise in three bloody hours then everyone will be leaving for Hogsmeade while I'm _still_ trying to get my brain to function and finally finish this damned assignment.

I know I could always write about Malfoy's looks for two very obvious reasons. The first of which is the undeniable truth that he is _hot_. I may hate him but I have perfectly functioning eyes and as much pent-up hormones as the next girl. It isn't a secret that he's one of the hottest guys inside and outside school. The second more Gryffindor-loyal fact is my abhorrence to his arrogance and chauvinistic, narcissistic second nature.

Of course, if anyone were to ask me which of the two is more influential, I would answer the latter in a heart beat despite the initial one having more control on me. That is something I would never admit to anyone. Hell, I hardly acknowledge it myself.

If I _do_ give in to the less rational part of my being just to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow, I would definitely be signing my own death certificate. That scandalous list would only give Malfoy the wrong impression come Monday and golden opportunities to black mail me until he graduates. Not to mention it'd very possibly give Ron a heart attack. _Hold on_. Maybe this project isn't such a bad thing after all. I've been waiting since summer to get back at that great big overprotective oaf for ratting on me and getting me grounded for a full _month_.

What would _you_ do for thirty sodding days in the Burrow with my father off at work, brothers gallivanting around the whole of Europe and my mother downstairs cooking _pies_? Even if I've lived in there my whole life, I would have to say that was the first time I ever had the time to clean and re-clean my room completely and seen everything and anything to be seen within my four-walled bedroom. That had to be the most boring, mind-numbingly pathetic summer in the entire sixteen years I have been alive.

Now I know how many cracks there are on the ceiling (eleven), memorized the number of nails on my wooden floor (two hundred sixty-eight), learned the exact color of my walls when I was born (_cream corn_ but my parents painted it over with princess pink when I turned two), found out how many quilts, blankets, sheets and pillow cases I have (thirty-five), commit to memory the precise measurements of my bed, desk, windows, closet and bedroom door, discovered everything outside my windows (trees, a small pond and a fence a few hundred meters away from the house) and realized just how little clothes I actually own (ahem).

Anyway, back to the daft list. I find myself in lose-lose situations all the time but this is just _ridiculous_. I don't write anything, I fail Divination. I write about Malfoy's looks, I face a year of blackmail from Malfoy and his cronies and cold shoulders from everyone in my house. Great joy.

I continue looking dazedly at his name. Blond hair. Mercury blue eyes. Lightly tanned skin. Lean body. Tall. When I'm really desperate, I guess I could take comfort in having five back-up compliments for the git.

To me, if I ignore his attractiveness, that's Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin. Seeing as my _infatuation_ (and that's already stretching the truth) with him is only skin deep, I can't care less about his hair, skin, body or height enough to write them down and elaborate my interest in them.

_I_ _don't_ _like_ _him_ meaning _I don't like everything_ _that has to do with him_. What am I going to do? I yawn unconciously in my seat. Damn my drowsiness. I need to stay awake and be done with this list so that I can finally have a fun weekend outside of the castle. But my mind's too befuddled to form even a simple coherent thought much less ten justified things I don't hate in Malfoy. Dear Merlin, have mercy on me.

_**His blatant disregard for anyone's well-being other than his own.**_

I scrawl mindlessly, not caring that Professor said that we had to write compliments or that the spell would detect lies and ignore them. What I wrote was _partly_ true anyway. If anything, his ability to turn his back on someone in need is amazing. Who else in the world would rather save himself than a dying family in a burning house?

Well, okay, I may be underestimating his compassion but no one can deny that he would allow someone to take the blame for something he did. It's despicable, really. I gasp when the parchment becomes clear again, my sarcastic remark erased completely. Trelawney wasn't kidding about the spell's strength.

I shake my head to clear my mind a bit. I stretch in my chair, allowing my auburn hair to escape the messy bun I had encased it in for the past four hours. Around me, my roommates' shuffling and murmurs echo throughout the room. My lamp is the only thing separating me from the complete darkness of my dorm room.

I would never say this out loud but the darkness scares the hell out of me after my first year incident with Tom Riddle's diary. I know it's an irrational fear now that the Dark Lord has been defeated and all of the Death Eaters are locked up in Azkaban but the thought of strange creatures simply lurking in the shadows waiting to strike and kill me continues to cause shivers to run down my spine.

'_Ginny, you're _sixteen_ for crying out loud! You fought in the Final War, come face to face with Malfoy almost everyday and go through hell in classes at the same time! You had a mind link with Voldemort himself five years ago for crying out loud! _He_ was practically the epitome of darkness _and_ evil! You survived through all of that and more, didn't you? You're a Weasley, you're better than that! Come on, Ginny! If slimy, good-for-nothing Slytherins can just about live in the dungeons, you can stop this silly fear of yours. Mind over matter, girl! Now finish that list so you can enjoy Hogsmeade tomorrow!'_ My unnaturally motivated inner voice doesn't stop there though, I just simply tune it out for now. I already have enough things on my mind, I don't need over-enthused pep talks in my head all night long.

I don't heed my conscience and allow my eyes to flicker briefly towards the closed windows protecting me from the harsh, freezing cold wind known to blow mercilessly during this time of the day. Soft sunlight streams through the glass and warms the floor as I yawn again, propping my head up in my right hand as my free fingers move over the worn wooden desk I've called my own since my first year. I follow my fingers as the trace the rough scratches covering the wood then stopping just in front of the framed picture of the Burrow.

I smile as I recall when we had taken the picture. It was a sickeningly warm day in mid-July, the last day Charlie and Bill could stay at home for the year. My mother thought that it would be a good idea to take a picture as a remembrance of our first time together after the war, never mind that it was over a hundred degrees outside. It took us only about half an hour to get ready, a new record, and only another thirty minutes for my mom to finally deem us picture-perfect. It was a fun time. Behind the eight of us, the Burrow loomed with its back to the blazing sun, giving us much needed shade.

Shaking my head, my smile recedes until I'm frowning disappointedly at myself. If anyone can manage to use a picture as distraction from a do-or-die project, it could only be me. How did Hermione finish her list on Blaise Zabini, Malfoy's right-hand man, anyway? She gets to tell me that she'd never write compliments for a Slytherin then does it herself with no trace of regret whatsoever. What has the world come to?

The day Hermione Granger loses her mind, or contradicts herself, is the day Snape gains a heart and marries Professor McGonagall in a backyard wedding. I snicker quietly at the thought. I _know_ 'Mione doesn't tell lies! Or change her mind on matters involving those green and silver-wearing pricks for that matter. But she did.

Darn it, I'm doing it again. Who the bloody hell cares if _Hermione Granger_ does a list of compliments on a Slytherin? I need to focus on my _own_ problems right now, I can't risk any more interruptions!

I stand up from my desk despite the warning bells going off in my head and make my way to a window. I open it slowly making sure my roommates' sleep aren't disturbed then take a deep, cleansing breath. I love mornings. It's the truly only time of day when the world is completely serenely peaceful.

Bringing my mind back to Draco Malfoy, I tilt my head slightly to the right. I really don't know much about him. He's not evil that's for sure, or he would have killed Headmaster Dumbledore long ago—he's just mean and bitter.

He's not as good in Quidditch as Harry but skilled enough to have beaten him once. And if I'm not mistaken that was the _only_ time Harry ever lost a game. I could use his perseverance and near fatiguing training sessions as one of the things I like about him, right? Right. Now what else?

His sense of humor? Oh, sure, he'd be funny if I were a Slytherin and one of his friends. But that isn't the case as I'm a Gryffindor and his enemy. Well, I can always get back to that later.

I guess I sort of admire his self-control. I remember in my fourth year, when rumors of a war began coming out. My brother, Harry and other Gryffindors turned ruthless towards him instantly. That was the time he had just visited Dumbledore and asked for help we found out after the Dark Lord was defeated, Headmaster informed us that he couldn't visit his mother and had no one to talk to in Slytherin but it was too late.

'_He must have been very lonely…'_ I say to myself, another frown forming on my face. We should have really helped him then. But it isn't as if he would allow us…or anyone would be willing to anyway.

He didn't get angry at the guys who insulted him and spat in his face for being a supposed Death Eater...but I never took notice. He was just the same big, dark Malfoy to me. That must have taken a lot of self-restraint. He had already turned his back on everything he was taught and believed in and everyone was making his life more miserable.

Okay, that's compliment number two. I'll simply ignore the fact that he's such a bastard again now so that it'll be true. Two down, eight to go. Oh god, is there anything else worthy of praise in that blond-haired jerk?


End file.
